The Wolfsong Fills The Night
by HoodedSpellcaster
Summary: The Wolfriders Padfoot and Prongs spend time at the dreamberry field. It's a night for knives, ladies, and maybe some mischief. /Elfquest!AU


**The Wolfsong Fills The Night**

A/N and warnings: For the QLFC. This is an Elfquest!AU, so it contains quite a lot of Elfquest terms. If you're not familiar with the series there are some terms explained in the end of the story.

* * *

"Owooo… Owoooo…

The wolfsong fills the night…

friendly darkness,

winking stars,

the white moons full and bright…"

Padfoot hums the song all Wolfriders from cubs to elders know. He lies confidently on the field of dreamberry bushes. He has his arms crossed behind his head and eyes aimed high. The sky is dark but the stars and two moons light up the night. The long cold is coming in few nights, he knows it for sure. But this night is not about worrying for the cold, Padfoot decides, and stuffs a fistful of dreamberries his mouth.

Close to Padfoot sits Prongs, his will-be-chief and his close friend, only two eights younger but still just as much a cub as the lively hunter himself.

"So… what exactly _is_ that?" Padfoot asks curiously. "Something you wanted to show me? It's just a knife? Really?"

Prongs nods. "Who knew trolls could be this smart?" he asks, admiring the metal knife. He holds it almost cautiously. "That they can make… something like this? Something so beautiful, and yet, so deadly?"

The elaborate handle and long, curved blade of the sharp tool are made of the brightmetal, the metal of trolls. A bright gemstone the tribe elders call _a topaz_ is inserted in the handle and it winks in the night like a wolf's eyes. Prongs runs his fingers on the cold metal and sighs in awe.

Padfoot grins. "Now now, Prongs," he says. "Don't treat a blade as if it's a woman. It brings bad luck."

The knife forgotten, Prongs aims his eyes at the stars and smiles.

' _Ah, yes, my sweet lily flower, my precious Eveningstar,'_ he sends and shares his memories of the strong and skilled healer with Padfoot. _'Hair as red as a fresh kill and eyes as green as raw dreamberries_ … _Her healer's touch is what I yearn for the most… When will the Recognition spark between the two of us?'_

Padfoot gags at the tenderness of his friend's sending and breaks the too intimate contact between them.

"I would rather have love over Recognition any time, Prongs. Love like Frailmark and Ashen's," Padfoot says and licks his dreamberry smeared fingers. He looks at his friend who is almost desperate to share the bond of Recognition with the healer. "It's like having a sand-flea in your nose and having to sit in the thorn-bush, but you still keep chasing the healer like a near-wolf chases its tail… Chasing and chasing and never catching it…" Padfoot shakes his head. "She avoids you as much as you try to approach her."

"But she shouldn't, Padfoot!" Prongs whines and pushes his messy hair away from his face. He's letting his hair grow so that when the time comes he's able to wear the chief's lock. "I'll be the chief someday! Who would be more suited to tree with her than I am?! There is no one else!"

Prongs takes a sip of his wineskin to get rid of the feeling of annoyance he's feeling deep down.

"Who knows," Padfoot murmurs and sits up to reach for more dreamberries. "A capable healer can force the Recognition. I've heard of it happening few times in the past. Eveningstar seemed interested in it."

"But Padfoot", splutters Prongs in befuddlement as he wipes away the water from the corners of his mouth. "A forced Recognition?"

Padfoot shrugs. "Sometimes it's the only choice, I guess."

"Only choice or not, it's against the Way," Prongs growls and the knife gains his attention again. "And my sweet Eveningstar knows it. Who had even made her think about such… wrongness?"

"Who do you think?" Padfoot barks.

Prongs breaths out. _'Frog-Breath.'_

In the tribe there are very few of those who have the same abilities the High Ones once had when they had arrived to the World of Two Moons.

Marshthistle can shape trees better than her great-great-sire all those eights ago when the Father Tree was shaped for the tribe to live in. The Holt is safer than ever from the always dangerous humans who live all-too-close as long as her stinger-bushes and wines circle their woods all around.

One of the tanner's cubs – the eldest of the three – has already shown signs of another sort of shaping. It's more than what the tribe has asked for from a cubling no older than eight turns of seasons.

Eveningstar though, with her healing, was more than welcome when she was born more than eight eights ago. They still howl in their former healer's memory, if only Eveningstar had found her gift earlier… Prongs shakes away the memory of his mother. Sometimes the Way works like that, he reminds himself.

And then there is Snakeskin, the "Frog-Breath" as Prongs and Padfoot call him. No specific way to describe his skill, just magic that runs freely.

Prongs grimaces. How he loathes the magic user.

But Eveningstar likes the black-haired elf who is as trustworthy as a backstabbing troll. Padfoot senses his friend's troubles.

' _Back to the Holt, chieftain?_ ' Padfoot asks in an attempt to cheer up his young tribe mate. _'Maybe we could have some fun with the maggot-eaten magic user before the moons set?'_

' _My Sire is the Chief of this tribe, old friend–'_ Prongs smirks at his mischievous friend and sends his praises _'–but I appreciate your loyalty!'_

He howls, calling for his ride and loyal friend. The large brown wolf, followed by only a bit smaller black one, runs to the field. He greets the wolf – his wolf-friend, Barksnapper – and the greeting is returned. The next chief in line mounts his ride and beckons back to the woods.

Padfoot jumps on his wolf's back to follow Prongs and Barksnapper.

"Back to the Holt, Shadowsheen!" he encourages the black she-wolf and his wolf-friend yaps in return. "AYOOO!"

"AYOOOO! AYOOOOO!"

The wolfsong fills the night when the riders run back to Holt with their wolves. They're not hunting tonight for nothing but pride. Will it bring anything good for the tribe? The wolf doesn't think about the tomorrow and the sunrise. There is only now.

And they will howl for the night and whatever it will bring.

* * *

QLFC Round 6 – Lesser Used Genres

Genre: Fantasy

OPTIONAL PROMPTS:

1\. (dialogue) "So… what exactly _is_ that?"

4\. (word) chasing

14\. (gemstone) Topaz

A/N: If the names weren't clear enough here's the list: James and Sirius had their Marauder names. Lily was instead Eveningstar, Frank and Alice were Frailmark and Ashen, Marlene was Marshthistle, and Severus was Snakeskin. Simple enough I hope.

Some terms for those who are not familiar with Elfquest.

Wolfriders are the tribe of elves who have wolf blood in their veins. They live in the woods with their wolves. They have special bonds with their wolves, and most of them have their own wolf-friends – like James and Sirius have Barksnapper and Shadowsheen.

Sending is telepathy between elves. You can't lie through sending. There is also wolf-sending between an elf and a wolf.

Dreamberries are berries that can give strange dreams and visions. If one has eaten too much they can cause passing out or other side-effects like blurriness in sending or general drunken behaviour.

Recognition happens between two elves. "Soul meets soul when eyes meet eyes." It can happen at the first sight or after years spent as friends or lovemates. Recognition can be forced between two but that's very rare.

The High Ones were the very first elves who came to the World of Two Moons. They were magic users like shapers and healers. Shapers are elves who wield old shaping-magic which gives them ability to shape trees, rocks, and flesh.


End file.
